


Bedtime in the Moriarty/Moran Household

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, D/s, Gags, Hand Jobs, M/M, Romance, Sensory Deprivation, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Moriarty and Moran get up to at bedtime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime in the Moriarty/Moran Household

  The room is quiet save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of Moriarty turning the pages of his book as he reads by the yellow lamplight - comfortable sounds that pleasantly fill the silence.

   At last Moriarty carefully places the ribbon into his book to mark his place and sets it down on the bedside table, before removing his reading glasses and placing these down beside the book. Only then does he turn his attention to the almost completely still, silent form of Colonel Moran beside him. He brushes his fingertips down the back of Moran’s neck and Moran flinches, startled by the touch after going for many hours without.

   Moran lies on his side, his back to the professor. He cannot see him for a blindfold is tied over his eyes. He cannot hear him for Moriarty has placed plugs in his ears to prevent him for using that sense. He cannot speak for a stout gag is tied in his mouth. He cannot move either, for his wrists are cuffed together and bound to the top bedpost; his ankles to the bottom bedpost.

   Moriarty pulls the bedcovers off his companion and Moran shivers as the cool air touches his bare skin. The professor admires his earlier handiwork – the network of reddened lines over Moran’s buttocks and the backs of his thighs from the riding crop. He lies down beside the colonel then and moulds himself to Moran’s bruised back. Despite the pain he must be in Moran pushes back against Moriarty, pressing into the embrace.

   It has always seemed oddly paradoxical to Moriarty that the more he hurts and abuses Moran in their games, the more affectionate his tiger becomes; the more he seems to crave intimate contact. Still Moriarty doesn’t question this. It is oddly endearing to see Moran act so.

   The memories of their earlier activities stir Moriarty’s blood now and he finds himself becoming hard again. He hitches up his nightshirt as he presses his length against Moran’s buttocks. Moran is still slick inside from before and it takes little effort for the professor to enter him now, which elicits a low groan from the colonel, the sound muffled by the gag but still distinctly one of pleasure rather than of discomfort, even though he must surely be sore inside and out. Moran though was denied release earlier, the professor declining to touch him in order to relieve him while he took his own pleasure. He supposes that Moran deserves it now then, and as he holds Moran to him with one hand he slips the other around, down between Moran’s legs to stroke his hard length whilst he thrusts into that tight warmth.

   When Moran’s senses are cut off this way he seems to lose what few inhibitions he has around Moriarty and his moans are loud even with the gag in place. He presses even more tightly into Moriarty’s hold too while he bucks his hips, as much as he is able to with his wrists and ankles bound to the bed anyway. Moriarty smiles at this and speaks to his companion in a low, soothing tone, even though Moran cannot hear him.

   “My good boy,” he says, as he alternates between pumping Moran’s prick with his hand and dropping it down to Moran’s balls, rolling them in his palm and gently squeezing them in a way he knows Moran likes. “My good, dear Sebastian.”

   He has sped up his thrusts but as climax nears he slows again, holding off the moment of release for a few more seconds until he cannot delay it any longer. He goes still, pressed deep inside Moran as he spills into him for the second time this evening, letting out a loud groan of satisfaction himself as he does so.

   Moran tenses momentarily at the sensation, then as the professor’s orgasm comes to an end he whimpers around his gag and twists his head as if to regard Moriarty over his shoulder, even though the blindfold is still securely in place. It’s a clear plea to be allowed to come also, for he is so close to the edge now but still not quite there and unable to finish himself off.

   “Hush, Sebastian,” Moriarty says, his lips against the side of Moran’s neck before he withdraws entirely from him, pulling his now softening prick from Moran’s slick passage and relinquishing his hold on him entirely. Confused by this and perhaps a little frightened too by the sudden loss of contact, Moran tries to roll over, tugging hard against his restraints now and letting out another muffled cry. “Shhhh, Sebastian, stop.” Moriarty places a hand on his forearm to steady him, before he trails his fingers up Moran’s shoulder, up his neck, and removes one of the earplugs. “I’m still here, lie still.” Gently the professor twists Moran’s head to the side to remove the second earplug. 

   Moran is apparently somewhat disorientated now but he obeys anyway, going still and quiet as Moriarty leans across him to undo first the ropes binding his wrists, then those tying his ankles to the bedpost. The gag comes off next, its thick leather wet with saliva, then finally the blindfold. Moran blinks uncertainly against the relative brightness of the bedside lamp and it takes him a moment before he can focus on Moriarty’s face.

   “Are you all right?” Moriarty queries.

    Moran swallows. “Yes sir,” he says, his voice cracking a bit after being unable to speak for so long. “I just… I need…”

    “Shhh, I know.”  Moriarty grips him by the shoulder and turns Moran over onto his left side, so that now they lie facing each other. Though freed from being tied to the bed Moran’s hands are still cuffed together and now he slips them over Moriarty’s head, down his back, pulling the professor into an embrace of his own.

     Moran’s prick is hot and hard against Moriarty’s thigh, and Moriarty drops a hand down and grasps hold of it once again, resuming his stroking and squeezing. This time though Moran’s moans are stifled by Moriarty’s mouth, as he presses his lips to Moran’s; pushes his tongue into his lover’s mouth. Moran kisses him back hungrily, desperately, as Moriarty pumps him. A few more strokes of Moriarty’s strong fingers and then Moran ceases his writhing; he arches his back and lets out a strangled, almost sobbing cry into the professor’s mouth, and he spends into Moriarty’s palm, three strong spurts of fluid.

    “All right, it’s all right, good boy,” Moriarty soothes, as Moran continues to thrust shallowly for a few moments, before he falls back against the bed, thoroughly drained.

    Moran’s gaze is fixed on Moriarty’s still and he laughs then, without seeming to know why. “James,” he says, shifting his cuffed hands slightly behind Moriarty’s neck. “James, you know that I…”

    “I know.” Moriarty places another softer kiss to Moran’s lips even while he reaches over to snag the handkerchief from the bedside table, so that he may wipe Moran’s release from his hand.

    Moran closes his eyes while they kiss now, and snuggles closer to the professor, not seeming to care in the slightest that his hands are bound together still, or about the mess or the stink of sex in the room. Moriarty is about to protest this; insist that they wash before falling asleep, but Moran’s face is pressed into the curve of his jaw now, his slowing breath warm against Moriarty’s neck, and somehow, despite the professor’s dislike of the messiness of sex, it’s pleasant to lie like this.

  “All right,” he says, reaching over to pull the bedcovers back over Moran’s naked form; over the pair of them. “Go to sleep, Sebastian.”

   And Moran, always obedient, does not need to be told twice.

 


End file.
